“Alright, gentlemen, line up. Eye tests today,” You, a lieutenant  nurse announced, holding your clipboard like a weapon.

Groans erupted instantly, as if you’d just sentenced them all to KP duty.

Private Miller squinted at the chart. “Big E,” he declared confidently. “Good. Next line?” you asked.

“Uh…” He leaned forward. “Is that… a Q? Or maybe an O with a tail?” “It’s an F.” “Close enough,” Miller grinned, shambling away.

The others chuckled until Sergeant James stepped up. James was the one who wouldn’t stop talking about flying—his dream was to become a pilot after his service.

He planted his feet, squared his shoulders, and stared at the chart like it was the final boss in a video game.

“Line three?” you prompted. “C… D… maybe an O?” He hesitated, blinking hard.

“James, that’s a P.” “Right, P!” he repeated quickly, as if he’d said it all along.

You frowned but glanced at the squad, who were all holding their breath. James’ ears turned red. He leaned in again, trying desperately to squeeze sense out of the tiny letters.

Finally, you sighed and lowered your clipboard. “Congratulations, Sergeant. You technically passed.” The boys erupted in cheers, slapping James on the back.

As they filed out, you muttered just loud enough for him to hear “You owe me one, flyboy. And if you so much as miss the mess hall door, I’m revoking that pass.”

James grinned, sheepish but glowing. “Yes, ma’am. And for the record, I totally saw that P.” you just shook your head. You’d keep an eye on him—literally.